


theres an app for that, apparently

by HoneyBeeez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coffee Shops, Confessions, Getting Together, Insomnia, Insomniac Kyoutani, Kyoutani also gets nightmares, M/M, More fluff than you could every imagine, Negative Thoughts, Nightmares, Sleeping Delivery!AU, Yahaba's doing his job and falling hard in the process, because of course i would. its like its in my bones, kyoutani isn't used to being taken care of, the level of sap in this completely skyrocketed and i have no defense, watari is Good and hes only trying to help., will add characters and tags as this continues!, yahaba flirts. kyoutani.exe stops working. the usual.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBeeez/pseuds/HoneyBeeez
Summary: Kentarou has a love-hate relationship with sleep (really, it's just a hate relationship, with sleep doing the hating). Iwaizumi worries, a lot, and just wants to help. Yahaba's unexpectedly good at his job.Really, Kentarou can't catch a break, until he does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm guessing a very big explanation is in order. There's this app called "Sleeping Delivery," and it's a dating sim where the main character is helped with their insomnia by handsome boys. Of course. I thought the idea was interesting though, so I took a bit of inspiration from it. (It's actually a pretty decent game, and it has a feature where you can listen to the handsome boys' voices as they sing or read, so, whatever helps, right?)
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy!

Kentarou downloads the app. It’s not like he needs it or anything, but Iwaizumi is worried about him and handed him the business card earlier that day and, well, Kentarou thinks that, if he tries it for Iwaizumi, it should be okay. 

It sits patronizingly on his phone screen, a simple white square with dainty, curvy blue Z’s sitting in the middle. “Sleeping Delivery” is written under it. Kentarou almost wants to throw his phone just looking at it. 

Stupid nightmares. Stupid insomnia. 

He taps the app open by jabbing at his phone screen, hoping the thing would shatter so he would have a reason not to do this. He types his name, his email, and his address, and answers the questions about medications as the app asks for them, barely reading the “we respect your privacy; we will not reveal your information in any scenario” crap as it pops up. 

With the preliminaries over with, a big pastel blue button fills his screen, the question “Ready For Sleep?” floating complacently within it. Kentarou feels the familiar ache leak into his head, starting at his temples and flooding right behind his eyes. 

He presses the button with a heavy sigh.

A list of profiles loads onto his screen, one for each available "Delivery Agent” apparently, but Kentarou feels his headache getting worse and his cheeks start to heat as he thinks about browsing and finding “the right fit.” Kentarou selects a random Agent and accepts his choice without thinking too much about it.

And then it hits him. He’s calling someone into his dinky apartment to help him  _ fall asleep _ . It's pathetic.  _ So  _ pathetic. He isn’t a baby, he doesn’t need to be coddled, he doesn’t need any help to go to fuckin’  _ sleep _ .

But Iwaizumi looked so worried for him three days ago, when he went to wake Kentarou as he dozed on the job, only for Kentarou to scream and bat him away with a crazed look in his eyes. If Iwaizumi thinks it a good idea, then he should consider it, shouldn’t he?

By the time his headache is throbbing at his temples, it’s too late to back out on his decision; Kentarou checks the app, and it proudly proclaims that his Delivery Agent is on his way. He throws his phone down to the couch, pissed at himself for doing something so stupid in the first place, and stomps towards the kitchen. He takes out the orange pill bottle, twists the cap, and dumps two capsules into his palm. They never fuckin’ worked, anyways, but he had to try. Right? 

He fills a glass with water, puts the pills on his tongue, and drains the glass just as someone starts knocking on the door.  _ Incessantly _ . Kentarou winces at the noise, before grimacing as his brain tries to split his skull in half. With one hand pressed to his temple, the other balled into a fist, he stomps to his door and flings it open.

“ _ Shut the fuck up! _ ”

“Sleeping Delivery!”  Their voices run over each other, and the asshole at the door has the decency to look sheepish at Kentarou’s words. “Sorry. Are you… Kyoutani Kentarou?” The dude checks his phone as he says it, like he had to be reminded of Kentarou’s name. Kentarou opens his mouth to yell at him, something along the lines of  _ what do you fuckin’ think, idiot _ when it dawns on him: this is this guy’s  _ job _ . He shouldn’t have to memorize his name. 

Kentarou closes his mouth and takes a deep breath before nodding. The dude makes an affirmative sound, almost like he was de- _fuckin_ '-lighted to know he got the right apartment. 

“I’ve got some papers for you to read through, just to be sure we’re on the same page and what not,” the guy says, slinging a backpack strap off one of his shoulders and pulling the bag around to his chest. He pats it for emphasis and then meets Kentarou’s eyes. “Should we take care of this inside, or…?” he trails off, expectant, and all Kyoutani can do is nod and step to the side.

The guy walks into his apartment and perches himself onto Kentarou's couch easily, like he’d been there so many times before, he had every inch memorized. He scoots to the side and pats the couch, inviting him to sit down too, as he rifles through his bag. As Kentarou sits, he pulls out several sheets of paper. 

“These basically have several versions of the same…” the guy starts to explain, but his eyes stray up to Kentarou’s face as his words dissipate into thin air. The better lighting in his apartment must put the dark circles under Kentarou’s eyes on full display, he thinks, because the guy’s eyes fill with a particular strain of pity. 

“You look like shit,” the guy says bluntly, but it’s not mean-spirited. Kyoutani’s skull feels like it’s on fire.

“Shut up,” Kyoutani growls, snatching the papers that are held limply in the guy’s hands. 

He scans the papers quickly, the phrases “no unnecessary contact” and “absolutely no sexual activities may be solicited by neither client nor Delivery Agent at any times” popping out at him. His headache worsens just a bit. At the bottom of the last page, there’s a looping signature. Kentarou barely makes out the name it declares: “Yahaba Shigeru”

“That’s me,” the guy,  _ Yahaba _ , says, noticing that Kentarou was staring at the lettering. “Does everything make sense? Do you have any questions?”

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Kentarou says again, the saccharine voice the guy was using making his headache worse. 

“Sorry,” Yahaba says, pretending to clear his throat. He doesn’t say anything more. Just waits. Kentarou feels his eyes on him and it reminds him of thinking of spiders and then feeling them crawling across his skin. Kentarou tries to shake the feeling, he really does.

“What…” Kentarou tries to say, but his voice wavers. He huffs before trying again. “What are you supposed to…  _ do _ , exactly?” 

“We help people fall asleep,” Yahaba says airly, waving a hand in the air like it was obvious. Kentarou’s pinning him with a glare, but the guy doesn’t seem to notice as he continues. “Every one of our clients has different needs, but most of the time, people just need to feel someone next to them, or hear someone’s voice, or just know that someone is there to watch over them to fall asleep.”

The explanation seems soft, almost fond, and Kentarou doesn’t really expect that from him. Yahaba breaks from his sort of reverie and gives him a knowing smile.

“This your first time?” 

“Shut up,” Kentarou says once more, a bit dejected, as he turns away from him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” Yahaba says smoothly, reaching out to pat Kentarou’s shoulder reassuringly. Kentarou shrugs him off and ignores the fake noise of hurt Yahaba makes in response. Kentarou’s just about to stand up and tell the guy off, tell him that he doesn’t need his help and that he can just  _ leave _ because this whole thing was stupid and a mistake in the first place, when he speaks again. “Did you take your meds?”

The question takes him aback. A belated “huh?” slips out of Kentarou’s lips as he looks back at Yahaba. The guy’s holding his phone, Kentarou’s profile shining on the screen as he shakes it a bit for emphasis. “Oh… yeah,” Kentarou says.

“Good,” Yahaba says, nodding before putting his phone away. “We can go to bed now, or we can keep talking. That’s up to you.”

“Like I’d wanna  _ talk _ ,” Kentarou spits, rolling his eyes as he stands. Yahaba does the same, and follows after him as Kentarou makes a beeline for his room.

“I think I would’ve forced you to bed either way,” Yahaba says lightly. “No offense, you really  _ do _ look like shit.”

“Offense taken,” Kentarou grunts. He almost ashamed at the disheveled state of his room, but right now he just can’t be bothered with that. There’s this random  _ guy _ in his room that’s bent on insulting him and that's tasked with putting him to sleep. Like a fuckin’ child. Once he finds that business card, he’s tearing it to pieces. 

Yahaba doesn’t mind his room's messiness, apparently, since he marches right in and sits at the foot of his bed like he own the place. Kentarou thinks that, with his job, he would  _ have _ to be comfortable in weird places like this. 

_ It’s his job. Right. _

“This isn’t gonna fuckin’ work,” Kentarou says, feeling stupid all over again as he stares at Yahaba sitting on his bed. 

“Not with that attitude,” Yahaba responds, patting at Kentarou’s bed, like he needs prompting. “It’s your first time doing this, right? So you won’t know if it helps until you try it.”

“I don’t need some idiot starin’ at me until I fall asleep,” Kentarou mutters, already planning on deleting that stupid app once he gets the chance.

“Then I won’t stare,” Yahaba says, shuffling a bit as Kentarou clambers into bed. He tries rearranging the blankets, but Kentarou slaps his hand away. “I can read to you, or sing, or tell stories,” he lists, before pausing as he laughs a bit. “I was going to go into our physical options, but I have a feeling that you wouldn’t like that very much.”

“Don’t touch me,” Kentarou echoes as he flips onto his side and tries to smother himself with his blankets. 

“As you wish,” Yahaba practically sings, shifting a bit. Kentarou feels his weight settle in the space right behind his back. “Is it okay if I sit here?” he asks tentatively.

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Alright,” Yahaba chuckles. “I guess I’ll read something, then? Wanna hear anything in particular?” Kentarou shakes his head because he knows it won’t make a difference. “The classics, it is,” Yahaba says, and Kentarou hears him fiddling with his phone before he starts to read.

Kentarou closes his eyes, hoping that if he fakes it enough, Yahaba will just  _ leave _ so that he never has to deal with this again. He can tell Iwaizumi that he tried it and it didn’t help, and that’s okay, because he didn’t need help in the first place. But then he actually  _ listens _ to Yahaba’s voice as it breaks the usually-ice-cold silence of Kentarou’s apartment, and it’s not sugary, or sing-songy, or formal, it just… is. 

Kentarou’s head still aches, but for once it’s not the only thing he can think about. Instead, Yahaba’s voice fills his head until exhaustion makes his bones heavy and the words trail off from his consciousness all on their own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enter iwaizumi and oikawa in a thrilling part two!! a little short this time, but please bear with me!!

When Kentarou wakes, he’s huddled on one side of his bed in the exact same position he was before he remembers falling asleep. He sits up, groggy and swaying a bit as he does so, and rubs at his eyes. 

That idiot actually  _ did _ help him fall asleep. Kentarou feels like he’s made of lead, but his headache has receded for now and he has a feeling that this was the longest he’s slept in one shot for a while.

Iwaizumi’s gonna have a fuckin’  _ field day _ . 

Kentarou finds his phone on the couch, where he apparently left it last night. He finds his charger as he chooses a song to play, and lets his phone charge as he makes a pot of coffee. If the stuff’s a bit weaker than what he usually makes, he blames the excess sleep his body isn’t used to. 

The bags under his eyes look a bit better, though. Not gone, years of not getting enough sleep can’t be erased in a day, but less like someone’s smeared eyeliner under his eyes and left him to suffer. 

He drinks a cup of coffee before he gets ready to head to the shop, then he fills his thermos with the stuff left over, grabs his phone and keys hanging by the door, and heads out. 

Kentarou’s early, as he almost always is, when he gets to the shop. It’s really Iwaizumi’s grandmother’s, but Iwaizumi has taken over it in her old age and easily roped Kentarou into helping him out practically right when they met. It wasn’t like Kentarou minded; the green of the plants helped him relax, if only a bit, and he learned he was pretty good at pruning and arranging vases. 

He leans against the wall next to the shop and nurses his thermos as he waits for Iwaizumi. It’s not a new thing. Usually, he’s waiting for longer, even slipping into his spot before the sun was out, so this is a bit of an improvement. He thinks it’s only been about fifteen minutes before the sound of footsteps draws his attention away from his coffee and down the street.

Of course, there’s Iwaizumi, but there’s another person nearly clinging onto his arm. Kentarou wants to throw his head back and smash it against the shop’s wall, but instead he holds back a groan and takes another, albeit sulky, sip of coffee.

“Yo,” Iwaizumi calls when they’re reasonably close. Kentarou juts his chin out a bit in response..

“Good morning, Mad Dog!” Oikawa sings, ripping himself away from Iwaizumi like they were two pieces of velcro and swaggering his way towards Kentarou. He tries hiding behind his thermos, but Oikawa still ruffles his hair annoyingly. Kentarou doesn’t even get the satisfaction of slapping his hand away. 

“Fuck off,” Kentarou sighs, looking to Iwaizumi for support as the other man unlocks the shop.

“Don’t be rude!”

“Can’t help ya here,” Iwaizumi says, giving him an almost apologetic smile. He pushes the door open, the tiny bell at the top of the door frame tinkling brightly as he does so, and the three of them file inside. Kentarou lingers near the front of the shop, gently touching the leaves of different plants they have lying around as he drinks the rest of his coffee, and a slow moment passes before the lights are flicked on. Iwaizumi reappears behind the counter, upon which Oikawa hops onto, kicking his legs gleefully.

“Get off,” Iwaizumi quietly mutters, poking Oikawa’s side.

“Are you my mom, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa replies, tilting his head to give Iwaizumi a undoubtedly cocky expression. 

Kentarou turns away from the both of them just as Oikawa starts screeching. As much as he respected Iwaizumi, seeing those two together made him feel slightly nauseous. He moves through the shop’s aisles and pushes towards the back room, ignoring the commotion Oikawa's making and, after a moment, not bothering to try and make out the low murmuring that's no doubt taking place in the other room. He sets his empty thermos on the table and shucks off his jacket in lieu of a dark green apron. 

“Oi! Mad Dog, get in here! I’m not done with you!” Oikawa calls, yelping a bit just as the words escape his lips before whining, “ _ Iwa-chan _ …”

“Be nicer, idiot,” Iwaizumi hisses, schooling himself as Kentarou makes his way towards them.

“What?” Kentarou asks, glaring at the both of them. 

“How’d… how’d you sleep last night?” Iwaizumi asks hesitantly, not really meeting his eyes. Oikawa, though, is pinning him with a glare to match his own.

“Fine,” he answers, but he barely gets the word out before Oikawa explodes.

“You’re lying!” Oikawa shouts, hopping off the counter and taking a step forward. Kentarou doesn’t move back, not an inch. “I thought you would  _ at least _ listen to Iwa-chan, but you’re too  _ goddamn _ stubborn to let someone help you help yourself!”

“The fuck are you talkin’ about?” Kentarou spits back, not expecting the way Oikawa’s in his face, let alone him being all pissy about…

“Sleeping Delivery!” Oikawa yells, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. Kentarou’s stomach drops as he staggers a step back. “Look,” Oikawa says, obviously calmer, “I know you don’t like me, and that’s fine, but I’m  _ good _ at my job and I actually want to  _ help _  the people I care about so, download the stupid app and request me, dammit!”

“ _ You? _ ” Kentarou chokes, almost wanting to laugh, but the frustrated look on Oikawa’s face, and the worried scowl on Iwaizumi’s, deters him. 

“My name was on the business card Iwa-chan _finally_ gave you,” Oikawa huffs, crossing his arms. “You don’t need to struggle alone, you know. There’s plenty of people who--”

“I didn’t see your name,” Kentarou interjects, not wanting to hear the lecture, not from Oikawa. “On the business card. Someone else came to…” he says, unable to actually say the rest. It didn’t seem to matter though. Oikawa was  _ sparkling _ with joy, and Iwaizumi moved from the counter to smack him upside the head.

“I told you not to push, dumbass,” Iwaizumi scolds, giving Oikawa a playful glare as he rubbed the back of his head, before he shifted his gaze to Kentarou. “Proud of you,” he adds under his breath. Kentarou knows the praise is the last thing Iwaizumi will say on the subject, for now at least, but, even if he didn’t sleep like the dead last night, it makes getting that stupid app worth it.

“Mad Dog,” Oikawa sings, inching closer to him. This time, Kentarou  _ does _ keep his distance. “You  _ have _ to tell me who you picked! What’s their name? Did they help? Oh my god,” Oikawa gasps, before laughing, “please tell me you didn’t cuss anyone out.  _ Please! _ ”

“Why do _you_ care?”

“Not gonna spill?” Oikawa asks, humming as he raises a hand to his chin and taps at his cheek, supposedly deep in thought. “I guess I’ll just have to ask around and see who put an angry puppy to bed last night…”

“That’s privacy infringement,” Kentarou deadpans, just as Iwaizumi grabs the back of Oikawa’s collar and pulls him back.

“You making fun of him isn’t gonna help anything,” he grunts, letting Oikawa go and sending him reeling back a step or two. “Ignore him,” Iwaizumi says, jutting his thumb behind him at a sulking Oikawa. “Just do what works for you, alright?”

“Iwa-chan, you’re such a dad!”

“And you’re late for your shift at the cafe,” Iwaizumi answers smoothly. 

Oikawa leaves the flower shop in a whirlwind, ruffling Kentarou’s hair once more and kissing Iwaizumi on the cheek. Iwaizumi chuckles a bit in the silence that’s left behind, before slipping back behind the counter. Kentarou turns to go back to the back room to grab some pruning scissors, before pausing.

“Hey, Iwaizumi?” Kentarou says before he can stop himself. The man hums in response. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t get an answer, but he really doesn’t need one, anyways. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading, once again!! please make sure to tell me what you think, whether that be here or on tumblr!  
> love ya!  
> -HB


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i actually know nothing about sleep. you have been warned

Kentarou procrastinates. He cleans his room, because even though Yahaba didn’t seem to mind it last night, it was bothering him. He needed to clean up, anyways. He does his dishes, even though there isn’t many of them that needed to be washed in the first place. He ignores it when his head starts to ache, opting to focus on scrubbing the bottom of his oven and then the entirety of his bathroom altogether. 

When he can’t find anything else to do, he finds himself restlessly pacing around his apartment, until he finally collapses onto his couch, phone in hand. He fiddles around with a couple games he has before his eyes start to burn and his temples start to throb with a warm sort of pressure he will never get used to. 

He eyes the little square with the Z’s, conflicted about using it again. It  _ did _ help him sleep, but is it worth the embarrassment? Kentarou doesn’t like the feeling of needing someone to basically tuck him in at night, plus the fact that someone is being paid to take care of him makes him feel a bit pathetic.

He opens the stupid app anyways, because getting a decent amount of sleep two nights in a row has always been a myth and it becoming a possibility is something he can’t will himself to pass up. This time, the blue “Ready To Sleep?” button pops up immediately, and he presses it before he rethinks his decision. 

The list of Delivery Agents takes a second to load onto his screen, Yahaba at the top, probably because he had him before. Kentarou bites the inside of his lip. Does he  _ want _ that guy in his apartment again? He doesn’t think that’s the right question he should be asking himself.

He scrolls down the list, eyeing the smiling faces on the left side of the list, while noting the various distances on the right. There’s also  _ a lot _ more men in the list than women. Kentaoru doesn’t mind that, not really, but it makes him think about the demographic of the people using the app and… it honestly makes him feel even worse.

Kentarou flicks his way back up to the top of the list, and finds Oikawa’s face hiding in the list as he does so. He would be the  _ last _ person Kentarou would ever request, because the last thing he needed was pictures of him sleeping floating around the internet or some shit like that. At least with Yahaba it’s nearly anonymous. 

He requests Yahaba and drops his phone next to him on the couch. He tries not thinking about how weird it’s going to be, knowing this dude single-handed knocked Kentarou’s ass out by  _ talking at him _ for a bit and practically letting him in to do it  _ again _ , how weird it is, letting someone see him like this and being concerned for him because it’s a part of a job, but the thoughts are stronger than his willpower. His brain feels like it’s burning as he thinks, melting into nothingness with the flames licking towards the back of his eyes and forehead--

Kentaoru doesn’t know how long it’s been, but someone’s knocking on the door. It’s only three quick knocks, this time, but he knows who it is. A confusing mix of relief and dread pours over the fire in his head; it doesn’t do anything but push him off the couch and wander over to the door.

“Sleeping Delivery,” Yahaba greets just as Kentarou opens the door. His voice isn’t laced with sugar, at least, so that’s something.

“What a surprise,” Kentarou grumbles, rolling his eyes as he opens the door wider.

“It’s protocol,” Yahaba explains, shrugging a bit as he enters. “You know,” he says, taking his time trailing towards the couch, getting a good look at Kentarou’s place, “I had a feeling I would be back here.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Kentarou asks, glaring at him. 

“I wouldn’t say it if it didn’t,” Yahaba says, huffing out a small laugh. “You  _ crashed _ yesterday. You’re obviously tired, you just need a little nudge in the right direction, that’s all.”

“Right, like it was a choice to not sleep,” Kentarou says, scoffing. He barely catches Yahaba’s frown as he looks away from him.

“That’s not what I said,” Yahaba refutes. “I  _ know _ it’s not a choice, but there’s nothing wrong with needing some help--”

“Says the one doing the helping.”

“Look, I know this is weird for you, but you don’t have to be an ass about it,” Yahaba says, squaring his shoulders. “I’m here because you  _ requested _ me to be here, so I’ll do what I can.” His voice is steel in a way Kentarou hasn’t heard it been, but it doesn’t surprise him in the least. Yahaba deflates a bit, his shoulders sagging as he lets out a heavy sigh and hanging his head, before straightening up. “So. You take your pills?”

“Uh, no,” Kentarou says, realizing he forgot about them. He wanders his way towards the kitchen, one of his hands coming up and rubbing his head as he grabs a cup from the cupboard and fills it with water. He takes his pills deftly and polishes off the rest of the water for good measure. 

“You alright?” Yahaba chirps, his voice unusually close, and Kentarou doesn’t even realize that he followed him into the kitchen until a hand is touching his own, where it’s still rubbing at his skull.

Kentarou smacks the hand away and scrambles away, hitting his hip on the counter and hissing at the pain. When he flicks his eyes back up, his breaths coming in shaky and uneven, he sees Yahaba standing there, hand frozen in place before it falls back down to his side, his lips parted almost in shock, a blank look in his eyes like he’s still trying to process what happened. 

“Sorry, I didn’t--” Yahaba starts to say, but Kentarou can’t take the tone he’s using. Like he’s something that could be scared away any second.

“I didn’t expect it. ‘S not your fault,” Kentarou says, shaking his head. 

“You… wanna talk about it?”

“No.” The answer is immediate, at Kentarou’s lips even before Yahaba’s question is out in the open air. “My head hurts like a bitch,” he mutters, and it’s the first time he’s said anything about his headaches outloud. 

“Drink some more water,” Yahaba says, grabbing at the cup Kentarou abandoned in his haste, moving to the sink and going to refill it. “Have you been eating?” he follows, holding the glass out, waiting for Kentarou to take it.

“That’s none of your business,” Kentarou answers, hoping his voice sounds like ice. He stares at the cup as its held in the space between them.

“It is my business, actually,” Yahaba replies. “Your health’s important, and if you like it or not, the rest of your habits impact your sleep schedule as well. So answer me.”

Kentarou takes the cup from Yahaba and downs it. A rivulet of water dribbles down his chin, and he uses the collar of his shirt to wipe it away. 

“That’s not an answer, you know,” Yahaba pushes, raising his eyebrows, and Kentarou fights against the impulse to roll his eyes. 

“‘M headin’ to bed,” Kentarou mumbles, passing Yahaba as he slips out of his tiny kitchen and trudging into his room. He collapses onto his bed and lies there a second before he turns over the covers and shimmies in, curling up in nearly the same position as as the day before. Yahaba settles himself next to him, and Kyoutani can tell that he’s taking care not to touch him. 

“Classics again?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kentarou mumbles, voice slurred by the way his cheek presses against his pillow. 

“Alright,” Yahaba sighs, shuffling a bit, and Kentarou thinks he’s pulling his phone from his pocket. “I have to read this for a class, so I might as well,” Yahaba explains.

“You go to a university?” Kentarou finds himself asking before he can catch himself. Yahaba hums an affirmative. “Oh…” he says, not finding anything else to say.

It doesn’t matter, though. Kentarou recognizes the passage from Frankenstein, and he thinks it’s much more interesting hearing it from Yahaba’s lips. He doesn’t hear much of it, though, but the last thing he remembers is thinking that he should give the book another try before he drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! once again, please tell me what you think, or message me @hijackedhoneybeeez on tumblr!!  
> take care of yourselves!! you're always worth it, even if you think you arent!  
> love ya!  
> -HB


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time skips are really weird. im sorry about that. about a week has passed since the previous chapter.  
> please enjoy!

Days pass.

* * *

 

It was a busy day at the flower shop, for some reason or another. Kentarou doesn’t really know the reason why, he’s only there to make sure the flowers are okay and arrange them into bouquets or vases when he needs to. But all those people passing in and out, chattering on about things that never really mattered, wears Kentarou down more than anything. By the time he gets back to his apartment, the left side of his brain feels like it’s going to disintegrate.

He knows he should get something to drink or make dinner or take some painkiller or whatever, but he doesn’t. All those people in the shop were leeches, sucking him of all his energy and leaving him absolutely drained in a way he almost forgot about. 

Kentarou collapses onto his couch, eyes heavy and head thrumming with pain. He curls up on his side, already falling asleep, and the last thing that crosses his mind is that he doesn’t need Yahaba to fall asleep after all. 

. . . 

And then, all he sees is an orange glow of a blazing fire. The crackling of burning wood fills his ears as he watches the building in front of his break down bit by aching bit, the fire consuming it whole. The windows have long since shattered from the heat, the overwhelming heat radiating from the building, flowing over Kentarou like waves and keeping him from stepping closer to the building.

_ His home _ . 

The plastic bag has long slipped through his fingers, the milk his parents sent him out to get forgotten like what he had for dinner the day before. The sirens became louder as the firefighters arrived, the police following them, but the fire’s roaring was much louder. 

Kentarou couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his face, almost terribly cold compared to the heat sticking to him like glue, his mouth open and throat sore as he yelled for his parents and screamed as the officers tried to move him. 

The fire raged on.

. . . 

“--youtani!”

“ _ Leave me alone! _ ” Kentarou screams, batting away the hands he feels clinging to his shoulders, just like the officers, all that time ago. He officially comes to a second later, his eyes stinging with tears that flow down his cheeks.

He’s in his apartment, he’s on his couch, Yahaba is… Yahaba is looking at him like he’s a crazed animal again.

“Kyoutani…” he says brokenly, and it’s the same tone the officers used when they told him his parents had passed and-- Kyoutani pulls his knees close to his chest and presses his forehead onto them.

“Get away from me,” Kentarou manages to say, not knowing he was sobbing until he tried to speak. His shoulders shake with every breath he tries to pull in. 

A hand splays out on his back tentatively, and Kentarou doesn’t know what to do about it, not wanting to unravel himself and fall to pieces all over again, so he stays put. The hand shifts, so that an arm is slung across his back, another arm placing itself around his front.

“It’s okay,” Yahaba says gently, shuffling a bit on the couch to get closer, to gather Kentarou in his arms properly. He rests a cheek to Kentarou’s head. “It’s alright, you’re safe, just breathe.” Kentarou tries to pull in another shoulder-wracking breath. “There we go, that’s good. Try to match your breathing to mine, okay?”

Kentarou doesn’t know how long he sits there, Yahaba’s arms wrapped around him, grounding him, feeling the rise and fall of Yahaba’s chest where it presses to his shoulder and trying to match that pace. But when he no longer sees the orange blaze behind his eyelids and can pull in a breath with almost as little effort as Yahaba can, his legs have slipped off the edge of the couch, and he’s slumped over to the side, his head leaning on Yahaba’s chest. 

He pushes him away before he has the opportunity to think that he’s comfortable, or that he’s thankful he’s here.

“What’re you…” Kentarou starts, wiping at his face with the back of his wrists. “What’re you doing here?”

“I was worried,” Yahaba replies, the words coming out as an exhale. Kentarou turns towards him, incredulous. Yahaba must read the disbelief written across his face, because he sighs and says, “It was getting pretty late and you hadn’t requested… well,  _ anyone _ , and I was free so I thought I would stop by and make sure you were alright… and then I heard you yelling. Your door was unlocked so… I let myself in. And now we’re here.”

Yahaba was  _ worried about him _ . He came all the way over just because he was worried. The thought almost makes Kentarou want to laugh, but mostly it just makes his chest ache. 

“You can leave now,” Kentarou says, shaking his head as he gets up from his couch. 

“If you think I’m leaving now, you’re an idiot,” Yahaba replies, steadfast. It makes Kentarou freeze and turn back to look at him. His brown eyes were pinched with determination and worry, the combination of the two making the expression harder than it was probably meant to be. 

“You’re not getting paid for this,” Kentarou says, the  _ just leave _ not escaping his lips.

“Then request me, if that’s what’s bothering you,” Yahaba says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fine,” Kentarou spits, snatching his phone from where he left it. He gets onto the app easily, pressing the gaudy blue button and selecting Yahaba’s profile from the top of the Delivery Agent list. A small sound imminates from Yahaba’s pocket, and he takes out his phone and fiddles with it. Barely a second passes as something on Kentarou’s screen shifts, text blooming and telling him his Agent is on their way. 

“I’m gonna shower,” Kentarou mutters, feeling gross in his own clothes and the tear stains that are no doubt clinging to his skin. 

When he steps out of the shower, there’s a bowl sitting on his table, almost like it was waiting for him, white steam rising from its surface. Yahaba looks from his phone as Kentarou approaches, still drying his hair was a towel slung around his neck, and smiles.

“I figured you haven’t eaten yet, so,” Yahaba says, shrugging as he pulls a glass from Kyoutani’s cabinet and filling it with water. He sets it down next to the bowl just as Kentarou sits down dazedly at the table. “You really need to go grocery shopping.”

“Shut up,” Kentarou mutters, before saying, “Thanks for the food,” and digging in. 

He figures out instant ramen tastes better when someone else makes it for you. Yahaba’s eyes track his every movement, which is a little weird, to say the least. His gaze settles on him like a second layer, but that was fine. It was food he didn’t have to make himself and that was better than nothing. 

“So,” Yahaba says, breaking the tentative silence as Kentarou stands and puts his things into the sink. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Kentarou answers immediately, bitterly. He walks past Yahaba, who he can feel staring at him, and collapses onto his couch once more, his phone in hand. 

“Alright,” Yahaba says, and Kentarou can see the way he’s shaking his head from the corner of his eye. “I take it you don’t want to go back to sleep just yet, huh?” he asks in such a knowing way that Kentarou figures he might as well have not asked in the first place. 

“I just woke up,” Kentarou settles to say as an answer. Yahaba just hums in response. Kentarou feigns disinterest as Yahaba walks towards the door, only picking up his backpack that was left there carelessly, and plucking a book from it. Then, he settles on the couch next to Kentarou like it’s nothing. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting,” Yahaba replies, flipping through a couple pages before settling on his place. He looks up and sees that Kentarou’s glaring at him. “What? I told you I’m not leaving. Just let me know when you wanna go to bed, alright?”

“You know a guy named Oikawa?” Kentarou blurts, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Yahaba’s expression morphs into one of recognition.

“He works at Sleeping Delivery, too,” Yahaba says, slowly, giving Kentarou a quizzical glance. “Do you know him or something?”

“He’s my boss’ boyfriend,” Kentarou mumbles back.

“Iwaizumi’s nice,” Yahaba says. “Met him once when he came in and dropped off a meal for Oikawa at, like, three in the morning.”

“That’s him,” Kentarou affirms. 

“He works at a flower shop, right?” Yahaba says, before laughing. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that, I don’t really see you as a flower shop type of guy.”

“Is there a  _ type _ ?” Kentarou asks, well, more like snarls. Yahaba throws his hands up in defense, losing his place in his book.

“Easy, I didn’t mean it like that,” Yahaba says. “If Iwaizumi’s running the shop, I bet it’s anything from typical so no judgement there.” He sighs, the moment still. “But wow, small world.”

“Don’t tell Oikawa I brought him up,” Kentarou says,  looking back at his phone.

“Of course not,” Yahaba says, “it’d only go to his head.”

“And it’s big enough already.”

The sound of Yahaba’s laughter almost makes him want to smile. It’s hard not to. 

Kentarou doesn’t know how much time passed after that. All he knows that, for once, there was comfortable silence between them and, after a while, Kentarou started nodding off on the couch again. Yahaba got him his meds and practically shoved him into bed. He doesn’t remember Yahaba reading outloud all too much, but he  _ does _ remember a hand petting his hair as he fell asleep and, well, that was just as nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof. that was a rough one (and also one ive been wanting to write since i started this ting? so yay)  
> tell me what you think!! thank you so much for reading!  
> love you!  
> -HB


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand we are back on the chronological bs!! please enjoy!

“You alright?” Iwaizumi asks, nudging Kentarou’s arm with his elbow as he yawns for the third time in less than ten minutes. 

“Yeah, just…” Kentarou says, shaking his head a bit. “Woke up late and didn’t have time to make coffee this morning.”

“ _ You _ woke up late?” Iwaizumi says slowly, his eyes widening as he says it. “I didn’t know Sleeping Delivery works miracles.”

“Very funny,” Kentarou remarks, and he has to stifle another yawn. “I fell asleep pretty late last night. It balances out.”

Kentarou still couldn’t really believe that Yahaba stayed for all that time, or that he showed up out of nowhere because he was  _ worried _ , of all things. It was pretty stupid when he thought about it hard enough. I mean, the guy’s  _ job _ was to worry about other people, right? Why would Yahaba get so worked up about  _ him _ ? It’s not like Kentarou wanted him there, even if he  _ did _ help a lot, Kentarou’s not denying that. It’s just… Kentarou doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand Yahaba and, to be perfectly honest, he’s not sure if he wants to. 

“There’s a coffee shop near the university I’ve been meaning to try, if you want to go get something,” Iwaizumi says nonchalantly. Kentarou blinks at him slowly.

“There’s a cafe two blocks away, why would I--?”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi cuts in, giving him a knowing look, and it makes sense. Kentarou would rather jump headfirst into a bear trap than to give Oikawa a reason to believe that he was in his debt, even if that reason was Oikawa making him coffee that he  _ paid for _ . 

“You want anything in particular?” Kentarou asks, untying his apron and tossing it to Iwaizumi, who catches it deftly and stuffs it under the counter for the time being. 

“Black coffee’s fine,” Iwaizumi says with a shrug. “Don’t fall asleep on the way there.” Kentarou rolls his eyes in response, grabbing his jacket from the back room and making sure he had his phone and wallet on him before walking out of the shop. 

It takes a while to get there, but the shop isn’t too hard to find, and Kentarou guesses that isn’t a coincidence. The walls are mostly windows, letting Kentarou see inside, and he’s almost shocked to see that there was so little people inside despite it being close to noon. Lunch rushes were supposed to be a thing, right?

Kentarou shakes it off as he pushes his way inside, his eyes scanning the place quickly, noticing the scattered wooden tables and the few comfy-looking armchairs tucked away in the corner, before walking up to the shop’s counter. The cashier standing behind it has a cheesy fake grin pulled onto their face.

“Hi, what can I--?” they start to say, and Kentarou frantically glances to the menu board that hangs above their heads when a voice rings out.

“I got this one!” someone says, and the voice is familiar.  _ Too _ familiar. Kentarou’s eyes flick back down, only to see Yahaba behind the counter, hand on the cashier’s shoulder, a reassuring smile pulling at his lips as he says, “You can go take your break now, if you wanna.”

“Ah, yeah, sure,” the cashier says, the uncertainty clear in their voice and in the way their eyes dart from Kentarou to Yahaba. They eventually slip away, disappearing behind a door in the corner. Kentarou can feel his palms sweating. 

“Hi,” Yahaba says, smiling at him, and Kentarou wants to leave. “I never expected to see  _ you  _ here,” he continues, his tone practically goading Kentarou into responding. 

“The feeling’s mutual,” Kentarou mutters, because what else is he supposed to say?

“Well, I work here,” Yahaba sasses, drumming his fingers on the pseudo-marble countertop. “Oh! Right,” he exclaims, standing straighter, “what can I getcha?”

“Uhm,” Kentarou lets slip, looking back up at the menu board, but he can’t really focus on the small lettering when he knows that it’s  _ Yahaba’s _ gaze that’s falling so heavily on his shoulders. “Two large black coffees, please.”

“Anything else?” Yahaba says, his tone saccharine in a way that reminds Kentarou of the first time they met. He shakes his head in response, pulling his wallet from his back pocket, and paying what he needed to. “Alright, give me a second,” Yahaba says, giving him another smile as he turns on his heel. 

Kentarou shuffles a couple steps away from the counter and waits. He fiddles with his phone a bit, and he thinks to text Iwaizumi and say that he’ll be back soon or something, when Yahaba steps back up to the counter.

“Kyoutani?” he says, not that he really needs to or anything, since Kentarou’s already looking at him. There’s two cups waiting for him on the counter, sitting innocently next to a small brown bag. 

“I didn’t order…” Kentarou starts, giving the bag a curious look as he approaches the counter once more, his steps hesitant. 

“It’s on the house,” Yahaba replies, cutting him off before Kentarou can finish the thought. Kentarou can’t take that, because it’s one thing to be given something for free, but it’s a completely different thing to accept something for free from someone who’s seen him vulnerable in ways that even the people closest to him haven’t. Kentarou lifts his eyes from the bag, already starting to shake his head and open his mouth to refuse, when Yahaba winks at him.

_ Winks _ . 

Kentarou feels like he’s disintegrating from the inside-out. 

He snatches the bag from the counter and tucks it into his jacket pocket before taking the two cups of coffee into his hands. “Thanks,” he mumbles with his head down, already turning away and making to stalk out of the shop.

“See you later,” Yahaba says in response. The words almost make Kentarou trip over his own feet, but he manages to stay upright and not spill coffee all over the pristine linoleum floor. 

Kentarou sips at one of the cups on his way back to the flower shop. The coffee helps, sure, but he feels more awake than ever despite the caffeine.  _ Why did he wink? _ It almost makes him want to kick something. 

He gets back to the flower shop in a daze, sliding Iwaizumi the untouched cup of coffee as he sips at his own. 

“Why do you look dead inside?” Iwaizumi asks, laughing a bit before leaning in, staring. 

“I’m always dead inside.”

“Not like this. Did something happen?”

Kentarou shrugs, the movement making a crinkling noise in his pocket. He remembers and he really doesn’t want to. He pulls the bag out from his pocket and peeks inside, seeing a chocolate chip muffin. It could be a blueberry one but Kentarou doesn’t think Yahaba is  _ that _ evil. 

“You… got something?” Iwaizumi says, sounding a bit worried, and it’s only then that Kentarou realizes that he’s been staring at a muffin wordlessly for a couple solid seconds.

“Got it for free,” Kentarou says, sliding the bag towards Iwaizumi as well before taking another sip from his cup. “‘M not hungry, you can have it. I’m just gonna… go prune or something,” he adds, almost as an explanation. Kentarou shuffles to the opposite side of the flower shop and starts inspecting every plant he can. 

By the time the shop closes, the coffee has been long since downed and the muffin is nowhere in sight. It’s better that way. At least Kentarou doesn’t have to think about that stupid wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for reading and sticking with me!! here's to hoping i can get more down soon! comments, concerns, and critiques are appreciated!!!  
> you're amazing, in your own unique way, and no one can ever take that away from you!! remember that!!  
> love ya!!  
> -HB


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here! we! are! enjoy this next chapter!!

Kentarou tries to get his mind off things when the shop closes. He and Iwaizumi part ways just like every other day, but this time Kentarou tracks down a new restaurant and eats so much that his pocket starts to hurt. It’s almost a shame that he doesn’t have enough to get himself some decent sake, but alcohol and his sleeping meds don’t mix well, and  _ man _ is he going to need his pills to work tonight.

That thought hits him when he’s about halfway back to his apartment. His heart stutters in his chest and he trips over his own feet at the same time. 

How in the hell was he supposed to let Yahaba into his apartment again after… well,  _ everything _ ? The worrying and the nightmare and--  _ oh gods, he petted his head, too, didn’t he? _ \-- and the free muffin and the wink… There was just no way he could fall asleep with him in the same room anymore. Just thinking about it makes him want to run. He doesn’t even want to think about  _ why _ , either. 

Kentarou gets to his apartment without sprinting there or kicking down a street light, though he can’t remember half the walk so he isn’t really sure. He paces as much as he can once he's inside, his hands worrying his hair until his scalp hurt in a superficial way that barely rivaled the headaches gets. No,  _ used  _ to get. They weren’t gone completely, but they definitely weren’t as intense. It dawns on him that Yahaba’s helped him in more ways than one, and the revelation makes Kentarou want to delete the app altogether. 

He almost does. 

He doesn’t need Yahaba anymore, right? He’s be doing fine, he’s gotten better, maybe he doesn’t have to rely on a stupid app anymore to get him to fall asleep-- Kentarou’s nightmare flashes at the back of his head, and he flinches at his own memory. 

No, no, he still needs help. Those nightmares weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, and as long as he was on those pills, he would be stuck in those nightmares for as long as his brain decided to replay it. It was better that Yahaba woke him up yesterday, it really was, even if everything that happened after the fact made him… well, like  _ this _ .

Kentarou lowers his hands from his hair, the pain not worth it. So, he needs someone. No one ever said that the someone  _ had _ to be Yahaba. 

He takes his meds and waits for them to kick in, cleaning up here and there around his apartment in the meantime. Kentarou presses the stupid “Ready For Sleep?” bubble and, this time, doesn’t look blindly at the list of Delivery Agents. Of course, Yahaba is there, right at the top, but he scrolls just enough so that his face wasn’t staring at Kentarou judgmentally as he scrolls. He sees Oikawa, too, and ignores him. He picks the closest person he can find because, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t know what else he should be looking for. 

About a minute later, a notification informs him that “Watari Shinji” is on his way. 

Kentarou washes his face and changes into something that looks and feels a bit more like pajamas while waiting for the Sleeping Delivery guy. Even though he’s expecting it, Kentarou still flinches when he hears someone knocking on the door. 

“Hi!” Watari says (Kentarou made sure to remember this guy’s name) once he opens the door. “Kyoutani, right? I’m here from Sleeping Delivery.”

“Yeah,” Kentarou replies, not really expecting the amount of energy Watari is exuding. It makes his head swim, just a bit. “Come in,” he adds as an afterthought, stepping aside and letting Watari in. 

“Thanks,” Watari chirps, looking around for a brief second and smiling a little brighter before ambling his way to the table and sitting down. Kyoutani blinks in surprise, expecting the overly-familiar flop onto his couch like Yahaba did but… he guesses everyone does things differently. 

“You want some water or anythin’?” Kentarou offers, not wanting to come off as rude.

“I’m good, thanks,” Watari says, waving him off good-naturedly. He rifles around in a messenger bag before he pulls out a couple sheets of paper. “I’m sure you’ve seen these before, but it’s protocol to restate the essentials,” Watari says with a shrug as he hands the papers over. Kentarou takes them and a quick look-over lets him know that it’s the same papers Yahaba handed him the first day he was here. Watari’s signature at the bottom of the last page was easier to read than Yahaba’s was. 

Kentarou hands them back like they scorched his hands.

“Thanks,” Watari says, stuffing the papers back in his bag. “So, Kyoutani, how’re you liking Sleeping Delivery?”

“What?” Kentarou asks, a little confused by the question. Watari holds back a laugh, gesturing to the other chair next to the table.

“Small talk,” he explains, leaning his cheek on a propped up hand as Kentarou sits with him. “Indulge me.”

“I-It’s fine, I think,” Kentarou answers shakily. He never expected to be asked about the whole thing, and the past week or so with Yahaba helping him cropping up in his memory didn’t really help. He was the  _ last _ thing Kentarou wanted to think about. 

“You think?” Watari prompts. 

“More helpful than I thought it would be,” Kentarou mumbles, making Watari laugh in earnest. 

“Yeah, that’s what most people say,” Watari says, nodding sagely even as he pretends to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes. “You don’t know  _ how _ many people treat it like a dating site, though. It’s terrible.”

“Really?”

“Like a badly-written horror novel,” Watari says, shuddering. 

“Why do you still work there, then?” Kentarou asks. It’s weird, because this is Watari’s job too, but he and Yahaba had widely differing approaches. Watari sitting at his table just felt  _ easy _ , while Yahaba sitting on his couch made his stomach settle somewhere between his feet. Or maybe that was just the wink replaying in his mind once more. 

“Why do you wanna know?” Watari asks back, a laugh in his voice that Kentarou doesn’t really expect. He doesn’t know how to answer that, because how can he say that he can’t fathom why anyone would want to work at Sleeping Delivery to someone who works there? He guesses it doesn’t really matter, though, because Watari continues. 

“I’m kidding, calm down,” he eases first, giving Kentarou a small smile. “I… I still work here because… well,” Watari paues, like he doesn’t know how to explain himself. “I started working here because I needed the money and it seemed like something I could do. But, even with the obnoxious people, I’m still here because I saw how something small like this can help others. That’s why I don’t really mind.”

The absolute  _ care _ in Watari’s words makes Kentarou think of Yahaba. A wave of unease grips him.

“Is…” Kentarou says after a second of silence. Watari looks at him expectantly, and he guesses he can’t back out of the question anymore. “Is everyone who works at Sleeping Delivery like that?”

“Huh? Well,” Watari says, rubbing at the back of his head with a sheepish expression, “I can’t really speak for all the other Agents, but I’m sure they all have their hearts in the right place.”

Kentarou only hums his agreement, figuring that he’s pried enough, before yawning.

“I guess I’ve rambled on long enough, huh?” Watari says, laughing at himself before getting to his feet.

“Nah, ’s not that,” Kentarou starts to say, but Watari waves him off.

“I’m kidding,” he assures, shaking his head like he thought Kentarou was a lost cause. “Oh, you have some medication, right? Do you--?”

“Took ‘em already,” Kentarou cuts him off, getting to his feet as well.

“Good,” Watari chirps. “Well. Lead the way.”

Kentarou shuffles to his room and slips into bed, curling up under his covers as Watari sits at the foot.

“This is fine, right?” Watari asks, fidgeting a bit, and Kentarou nods. 

Somewhere deep within himself, Kentarou knows that the absence of Yahaba’s warmth at his back is unsettling. A part of him knows that if Watari tried replicating it, though, it wouldn’t be the same. He blames that stupid fuckin’ wink. 

Why did he have to  _ wink _ ?

“I don’t really know what Yahaba usually--” Watari starts to say, before his words cut out altogether. Kentarou almost asks him what’s wrong.

But then he gets it. 

“ _ Yahaba _ ?” he repeats, sitting up and staring, wide-eyed, at Watari. 

“N-No, I didn’t--!” Watari stutters, waving his hands frantically. 

“Do you know him?!” Kentarou asks, not realizing he’s shouting.

“ _ No _ ! I mean, yeah, of course I do, we work at the same place, and we’ve only been best friends for like…” Watari rambles, before slapping his hands over his mouth. “Forget I said anything! We aren’t supposed to talk about our clients!”

Watari’s thoroughly worried expression is lost on Kentarou as the words circle in his head. 

“He… talked about me?” Kentarou asks, bunching his blankets in his fists.

“He… he has,” Watari admits, sighing. “Nothing bad, though, of course! It’s just that, well, we’ve been friends for a while and I could tell something was up, so I asked him about it and--”

“Something?” Kentarou echoes, and Watari presses his hands to his face.

“Please forget I said anything!” Watari pleads, looking at him with wide eyes through his fingers. “We  _ really _ aren’t allowed to talk about our clients because of confidentiality, and if Yahaba ever found out that I told you that he talks about you, I think he might kill me…”

“I-I won’t say anything,” Kentarou promises, even though his head is swimming. Yahaba talks about him, he talks about him with  _ his friend _ , even if he isn’t supposed to. Kentarou tries not to make the movement too obvious as he shakes his head.

“Thank you,” Watari sighs, his voice full of relief. “What… what do you want me to do? To help you fall asleep, I mean.”

Kentarou tells him that reading something, anything, is fine, as he slumps back into bed. Watari pulls his phone from his pocket and obviously chooses something to read. It’s not like how Yahaba reads, because Watari’s energy is practically electricity in his voice as he talks, but it doesn’t matter. After a while, Kentarou stops thinking about Yahaba and what the whole thing could mean and focuses on the words floating through the air. 

It takes Kentarou a bit longer to fall asleep than usual, but it’s better than nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, once again, for reading!! please tell me what you think!!  
> (i think this might almost be done, im not sure how much i have planned left but...we will see!!)  
> things get better, i guarantee it, and amazing things happen when you least expect it!  
> love ya!  
> -HB


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!! sorry for not updating sooner! i was super sick for the past couple days, but i got through! woo!  
> and i figured some stuff out for this story, so this is not the second-to-last chapter! please enjoy!!

Kentarou admits it every time he sees it done, but Iwaizumi arranges flower bouquets  _ incredibly _ . The customers are always thrilled when they see them, some even come back and tell the tale of their bouquet and how the occasion went, and Kentarou can only hope to get on Iwaizumi’s level one day.

That is, if the man ever stops lecturing him.

“Really, Kyoutani, you should be going to school, or looking for a better job,” he rants as Kentarou slouchs behind the register. Iwaizumi plucks a gardenia carefully from a bundle he has next to him and uses it like a pointer stick. “This shop is my responsibility and I’m fine taking it over, but  _ you _ \--”

“You told me that you needed help around here,” Kentarou says, giving him a bored glance, “so I’m helping.” He’s heard this lecture before, and he’s sure he’s going to hear it many more times in the future.

“I didn’t mean abandon everything you had going for you and work here!” Iwaizumi berates, his voice exploding from him before he huffs. “I just don’t want you to think that this is all you can do. I’m  _ worried _ about you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kentarou murmurs, looking away. His thoughts get away from him, like they’ve been doing all morning, and they settle on the night before with Watari and then, eventually, on Yahaba. He tries shaking his head to get his thoughts onto something that he could actually  _ understand _ , but he just… can’t. 

Iwaizumi’s saying something, Kentarou knows it, but the words come in one ear and out the other as Kentarou remembers. The muffin, the wink, the soft touch on his forehead, the hug that grounded him even when the floor didn’t… 

Yahaba’s voice is suddenly filling his mind:  _ “I was worried…” _

“Iwaizumi,” Kentarou says, cutting off whatever the man was saying. “Can… I ask you something?”

“Considering the fact that you’ve been spacing out for about two minutes?” Iwaizumi replies, giving Kentarou a knowing glance before shaking his head. “Go for it.”

“When you worry about someone, does that mean you care about them?” Kentarou says, feeling the way his face heats up at the question. Iwaizumi stares at him for a long moment before picking up three more flowers, this time yellow teacup roses. 

“Everyone has different reasons for worrying about people,” Iwaizumi answers vaguely, and Kentarou thinks that this is what he gets for asking such a stupid question. But then Iwaizumi continues, “But I guess you’re asking about a certain type of care, huh?” He chuckles a bit, brandishing the roses a bit before putting them gently in their place. “I need details.”

“What do you mean,  _ details _ ?” Kentarou mumbles, mortified, trying not to look completely appalled as he glares up towards Iwaizumi. 

“I’m not an  _ idiot _ , Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi says, making sure all the flowers were bundled up correctly before folding the cellophane. “You’ve been out of it all day, and yesterday after the coffee run you totally shut down because of a free muffin. And now, you’re asking me…  _ this _ . So,” Iwaizumi says, holding the wrapped bouquet in one hand and wiggling the fingers of the other towards Kentarou. Immediately, Kentarou reaches around the counter and pulls out a single red ribbon and hands it to Iwaizumi. “Something’s up,” Iwaizumi finishes ust as he secures the bow of ribbon around the bouquet.

For a second, Kentarou thinks about denying everything. Just dropping the whole conversation and mulling it over himself. But it was already out of his mouth, Iwaizumi already knew something was wrong and that he wanted to talk about it, and his heart had already jumped into his throat just thinking about getting all of this out in the open. 

Iwaizumi wanted to help, that’s what started this whole thing. He can still help like this, right?

“The person at the cafe yesterday,” Kentarou starts slowly, “the one who gave me the muffin for free. He’s… the Sleeping Delivery guy.”

Iwaizumi blinks, his lips pursed together, before nodding at Kentarou. “Okay,” he prompts, wanting Kentarou to continue. 

“He’s been… a lot of help, I guess? But it’s getting weird, too weird,” Kentarou says, his words quickening, like it’s going to kill him if he didn’t say all this,  _ right now _ . “Like, he came over one time without me requesting him and made me dinner and said he was  _ worried  _ about me, and then when he gave me the muffin he  _ winked at me _ , and then apparently they aren’t supposed to be talking about the people they help but…” Kentarou stops himself from saying more. Iwaizumi knows all about Sleeping Delivery from Oikawa, Kentarou would bet on it. If he mentioned anything about Watari and what he said, they could all be screwed. 

It’s a good thing Iwaizumi seems to get it, anyways. He hums, like he’s considering the words that gushed out of Kentarou like a waterfall. He thinks he must have been dying to talk about this, and he mentally kicks himself for not going to Iwaizumi sooner.

“Well,” Iwaizumi says after a long, silent moment. “It sounds like he likes you.”

“What?!”

The door to the flower shop swings open then, a voice yelling, “ _ Iwa-chan! _ ” drowning out whatever else was going to come out of Kentarou’s mouth. 

Iwaizumi groans, just a bit, as Oikawa swaggers into the shop, a grin on his lips.

“What’re  _ you _ doing here?” Iwaizumi grumbles, even as Oikawa shimmies into his space and kisses the corner of his mouth. Kentarou looks away, almost disgusted by how cute they were, and sees someone standing by the door, looking aimlessly around the shop.

He almost opens his mouth to greet them when he recognizes who it is. 

“I told you I’d be swinging by!” Oikawa says cheerfully, still all smiles. “Oh, and I brought Yaha-chan.  _ Yaha-chan _ , stop looking around, it’s rude!”

“It’s a shop, you’re supposed to look around,” Kentarou hears the familiar voice grouse, and Yahaba finally sees him behind the counter as he approaches. Kentarou sees the flicker of recognition in his brown eyes before he looks away, frowning a bit.

“Not like you’re entering a completely different planet!” Oikawa refutes, getting Iwaizumi’s hand to settle on his shoulder and  _ squeeze  _ in response. Kentarou sees Oikawa flinch a bit at the pressure.

“ _ You’re _ being rude right now, you know,” Iwaizumi notes, giving him a pointed glare. Oikawa gazes at him, confused, until Iwaizumi shifts his eyes towards Yahaba and Kentarou.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Oikawa says, beaming once more as he straightens up. “Yaha-chan, this is Mad Dog-chan. Mad Dog-chan, this is Yahaba. Play nice, okay?”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” Kentarou growls, not meeting Yahaba’s eye, choosing to glare daggers at Oikawa instead.

“It’s just a nickname, lighten up!” Oikawa breezes, and Kyoutani grimaces at the response.

“Mad Dog,” Yahaba says, obviously thinking about the nickname. The reason behind it must have hit him, because he turns and smiles in his direction. Kentarou can feel Iwaizumi’s gaze pinned on his shoulders.

“It’s a play on his name, see,” Oikawa starts to explain, moving to sling an arm around Yahaba. 

Kentarou doesn’t stick around to hear what that annoying guy has to say, because he ducks out from behind the desk and disappears into the back room almost effortlessly. He knows Iwaizumi watches him go, he just hopes that it’s okay with him.  

He sucks in a breath, and then another one, because that phrase “speak of the devil and he shall appear” really is true, huh? Iwaizumi’s words before the conversation was cut short rings through his head once again.  _ He likes you _ . Kentarou can’t wrap his head around that. Yahaba’s seen him at his lowest, cared for him because he had to and for no other reason, why on earth would he  _ like _ him?

But then again, why was he worried enough to show up at his doorstep unannounced? Why was he so careful, so cautious, so attentive, even when he didn’t need to be? Why did he talk about Kentarou to Watari when it was clearly against the rules? Why was he here,  _ right now _ , in the shop where he knew Kentarou worked the day after Kentarou requested someone else?

Maybe he was overthinking things. He definitely was. Kentarou let out another heavy-hearted sigh and shook his head for good measure. Everything will be fine. Oikawa and Yahaba will leave soon, and everything will go back to normal.

By the time Kentarou re-emerges into the shop from the back room, Oikawa and Yahaba are leaving, saying their cheerful goodbyes to Iwaizumi on their way out. Oikawa is holding a bundle of extra gardenias Iwaizumi didn’t use in his bouquet, while Yahaba is holding a small jar of daisies. 

Yahaba sees him right as he’s leaving, and raises his hand in a small farewell. All Kentarou can do is nod, recognizing the movement.

“That’s him, huh?” Iwaizumi asks, looking out the window, watching the two of them as they leave. Kentarou gawks at him, unable to form the words he really wants to say. Iwaizumi turns towards him, finally, and smiles his kind smile. “You two were a bit too familiar.”

“We weren’t,” Kentarou disagrees, looking away.

“Alright,” Iwaizumi concedes, a bit too easily. “You should request him tonight,” Iwaizumi adds, and Kentarou gets why he backed off so suddenly. “Really, I think you both need it.”


	8. Chapter 8

Kentarou knows he probably shouldn’t, but if he’s going to be completely honest with himself, he kind of  _ wants _ to request Yahaba for tonight. He has so many questions circling in his head that it’s almost hard to think about anything else. Plus, forcing answers out of Yahaba would probably be fun. Not productive, but that would be the least of his worries.

Sleep is the last thing on his mind. 

Kentarou procrastinates until it’s at least midnight, thinking that it was better to not look  _ too _ eager. He presses the “Ready For Sleep?” button eagerly when it pops up on his screen. 

The Delivery Agent list spools itself down his phone screen, happy faces on one side and distances on the other, but the first face he sees on the list isn’t Yahaba. It’s not Watari, either. Oikawa’s gaudy grin stares at him, almost teasingly. 

As he scrolls down the list, he doesn’t find Yahaba’s name hidden in the masses. He tries typing the name in the search bar, too, and a bubble pops up underneath saying, “This Agent is Not Available.”

_ Not Available _ . Well.

Kentarou tosses his phone away, trying not to let it get to him, trying not to think about all the questions that were eating him and he wouldn’t get to answer. He thinks about calling Iwaizumi, because he  _ was _ the one that said that he should request Yahaba tonight, so maybe he knows something? Does he? 

An old thought hits him, and it’s one that says he doesn’t need this crap in the first place. He doesn’t need help. He doesn’t need Yahaba. He can get by, all on his own, if he wanted to, all he had to do is try harder. And who knows? Maybe getting  _ just enough _ sleep was the secret to actually sleeping, maybe he’s fallen into a pattern and he can figure all this out on his own. 

There’s a knock on his door, jarring him from his thoughts. He tries pretending that his heart doesn’t stutter in his chest. 

He goes to the door and opens it slowly, peeking through the crack he creates, and sees Yahaba nervously waiting there. There’s no backpack on his shoulders, like there usually is, only that jar of daisies from the shop that he had earlier. 

“Hey,” Yahaba says, a small smile pulling at his lips in a way that looks like it takes effort. 

“Hi,” Kentarou responds, for a lack of anything better to say. There’s no way he could have requested him, the app said he was  _ Not Available _ , and he wasn’t yelling because of a nightmare, so why-?

“Can I…” Yahaba says, trailing off as he looks down at his shoes quickly. His eyes flick back up to Kentarou’s face soon enough, though. “Can I come in?”

Kentarou doesn’t have any reason to--  _ can’t _ \-- refuse him.

“I’m, well,” Yahaba says, starting and then giving up on his sentence as he steps inside. “Watari told me what happened yesterday. So, I’m sorry. For breaking your trust like that. I shouldn’t have.” 

Kentarou nods, not looking Yahaba in the eyes, because he can’t say anything. What can he say?

“I got these for you, by the way,” Yahaba continues, trying to cut through the tension with a smile. He holds out the jar of daisies between them, and Kentarou takes it into his hands carefully. “I know it’s not really much of an apology…”

“You bought them from the same store I work at,” Kentarou says, looking at the daisies. “Of course it’s not much of an apology.”

“I’m  _ trying _ , okay?” Yahaba says, exasperatedly. He runs his hands through his hair, using the perfect strands, but he doesn’t seem to care. He stalks to the couch and collapses onto it. “I didn’t know what else to do. I just… know I needed to make things right. Maybe asking Oikawa wasn’t my  _ greatest  _ idea, but I needed an excuse because…”

“Because?” Kentarou prompts, putting the daisies on the table as Yahaba rants and warily sitting down on the couch next to him as he trails off. 

“Because I didn’t want you avoiding me anymore,” Yahaba admits, but it sounds like Kentarou pulled barbed wire from his mouth instead of an answer.

“I wasn’t…” Kentarou tries to argue but Yahaba silenced him with a look.

“You requested Watari last night, not  _ me _ ,” Yahaba says, a hand on his chest. He sighs, exasperated, when Kentarou doesn’t do anything but stare. “Look, I might have overstepped my bounds when I helped you with that nightmare or with that muffin but…” He looks away, hands in his hair again. “If I’m the one that helps you fall asleep the most, please let me do it.”

Kentarou keeps staring, because there’s no way Yahaba came here just to say  _ that _ . His words held more weight, Kentarou knew, because it hung in the air around them like a bubble waiting to pop. 

“Why?” Kentarou asks slowly.

“ _ Why? _ ” 

“Why do you care so much?” Kentarou elaborates. “Why does it… Why are you the  _ only one _ you want me to depend on?”

“It’s not that I  _ want _ \--”

“You’re mad that I requested Watari,” Kentarou says. “You’re  _ jealous _ .”

“ _ I’m not! _ ”

“Then why show up at the shop?” Kentarou presses, throwing a hand towards the table for emphasis, pointing at the daisies. “Why buy flowers? Why act like you didn’t even  _ know me _ ?”

“I was doing that to protect your privacy, you  _ dolt _ !”

“Why show up here?” Kentarou goes on. “Why make a big show of apologizing when you’re not even going to say what you mean?”

“ _ You don’t know anything _ .” Yahaba says severely, making Kentarou stop. 

There’s a whole lot of silence before anyone says anything.

“Then tell me,” Kentarou says. Yahaba bites his lip.

“I like you,” Yahaba finally spits. “There, you happy? It’s not like it matters, or anything--”

“It does,” Kentarou argues, because there’s a heaviness in his stomach that isn’t necessarily a bad thing and hsi heart is hammering in his chest at Yahaba’s words. He doesn’t want them to go to waste.

“ _ It doesn’t _ ,” Yahaba argues instead, fists in his lap. He doesn’t look at Kentarou. “If all you want me to do is help you fall asleep, then I’ll do it. It’ll… I’ll make it stop. Somehow. It’ll be like it never happened. I just don’t want to  _ lose you _ because of my stupid actions. I shouldn’t have done any of those things and I’m  _ sorry _ .”

Words can’t form right in Kentarou’s throat. He thinks his heart is blocking them. He tries reaching for Yahaba’s hand, but he flinches away from him. 

“I can’t do anything with a client,” Yahaba mutters weakly, drained. “I’ll get fired.”

“I didn’t request you,” Kentarou says. He tries again, and Yahaba lets him fold a hand over his fist. “You’re confusing,” he says after a moment.

“What?” Yahaba says thickly, turning his head to meet his gaze. 

“This is your  _ job _ ,” Kentarou says, shaking his head incredulously to try and hold in a laugh. “You’re supposed to care about other people. But, somehow, you saw me at my lowest and… decided to care even more.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” Yahaba says with a dry laugh. His fist unfurls slightly under Kentarou’s hand. “You were just so honest about everything, even when you were lying. I know it’s my job and everything but… it felt different, with you. It’s  _ nice _ being with you, even if it’s kind of,” Yahaba’s hand shifts again, and Kentarou removes his touch, “a bit awkward now.”

“‘S not awkward,” Kentarou assures, the confession finally sinking in. “We don’t…” he says, huffing a bit as he feels Yahaba’s gaze land on him. “We don’t know each other very well, outside of this.”

“ _ I’m not _ -!” Yahaba says immediately, splayed hands out between them like he’s trying to stop impending doom. “That’s not… I mean, I know that! I’m not expecting you to do anything, or even respond! It’s something I have to deal with, and I will, I just thought I should be just as honest as you and…”

Kentarou reaches up and grabs his wrists, stopping his babbling. 

“What if I want to respond?” 

“H-huh?”

“I want to get to know you better,” Kentarou admits, glancing away from Yahaba’s incredulous stare for a moment. The other man, no doubt, opens his mouth to interrupt him, but Kentarou keeps going. “But I think I like you too.”

“You  _ think _ ?” Yahaba asks, trying hard to stifle a laugh as he pulls his wrists away. Kentarou’s hands fall helplessly into his lap. 

“ _ I do _ , okay?” Kentarou amends, narrowing his eyes at him in a way that he doesn’t really mean. His heart twinges in his chest, just a bit, but just enough to remind him that  _ this is real _ . “No one’s ever helped me with this kind of stuff before, but you just walked in and…  _ You get me _ in a stupid, weird way that I don’t know how to explain and. I like that part of you. I just want to know the other parts, too.”

“Me, too,” Yahaba says, shuffling closer to Kentarou on the couch. “The good  _ and _ the bad, okay?” He lifts a hand and, in a way that feels foreign and familiar all at the same time, touches Kentarou’s cheek. Kentarou can’t help but lean into the touch. “It’s not like I want to fix you, or that you need to be fixed, or anything. I just want to be here to help you when you need me. I want that for  _ both _ of us.”

“Alright,” Kentarou mumbles, not liking how weak his voice sounds, but it’s not like he can help it, either. “Wait,” he says, snapping out of it. He moves away from Yahaba’s hand, like his realization made his touch burn. “What about Sleeping Delivery?”

“What about it?”

“You said you wanted to help me,” Kentarou explains, “and by  _ help _ , you mean helping me sleep right? We can’t b-be together,” the words stumble out awkwardly, the concept making Kentarou dizzy, “if you’re still helping me.”

“I don’t want to get paid for helping someone I like,” Yahaba says, almost scoffing. “I’ll take an earlier shift and come here afterwards.”

“An earlier shift?” Kentarou questions.

“They’re mostly kids in orphanages or hospitals that have no one to help them right then and there,” Yahaba says, nodding. “There’s no competition.” The way he adds it, and the smirk that goes with the comment, makes Kentarou’s cheeks flush. 

“That’s… then everything’s fine,” Kentarou says.

“Yeah,” Yahaba echoes wistfully. His hand moves once more, cupping Kentarou’s cheek again, and Kentarou thinks that he can get used to this. “Have you taken your meds?” Yahaba asks gently.

“Don’t start with that,” Kentarou snaps as he glares. “You’re not working.”

“I can still care for you, though, can’t I?” Yahaba retorts. “Sorry, I don’t want you staying up all night staring at me.” It’s humorous, the way he says it and the smirk that’s playing on his lips for good measure, but Kentarou doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of laughing. 

“I don’t stare at you,” Kentarou bites back, knowing full-well that he sounds like a petulant kid. 

“Of course you don’t,” Yahaba says lightly. Before Kentarou knows it, a kiss is pressed quickly to his forehead, feather-light and searing hot all at the same time, as Yahaba gets up from the couch. He makes his way to the kitchen easily, like he’s done it a million times before, and maybe a thought pops into Kentarou’s head that he  _ wants _ Yahaba to be this comfortable around him, in his space, always, but maybe that’s just the twinge of his heart talking. 

Yahaba fills a glass with water and finds Kentarou’s medicine tucked away in a cabinet, and before Kentarou can stop him, Yahaba’s tipping the pills into Kentarou’s hand and placing the glass into the other. 

“That’s not fair,” Kentarou mutters, before popping the pills into his mouth and downing the water.

“I don’t have to be,” Yahaba says, grinning. 

It takes a while before Kentarou gets any sort of semblance of sleep. He changes his clothes and brushes his teeth, and by the time he walks back into his room, Yahaba is sprawled across his bed with a dopey expression. Kentarou doesn’t know how many times he tells Yahaba that he doesn’t have to read to him, not anymore, he could just talk to him, but Yahaba doesn’t listen. He reads anyways. Kentarou stares at Yahaba until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. 

Through his sleepy haze, Kentarou feels his bed shift under him. He starts to groan, confused, but something warm presses to his forehead and something soft is spoken, and even if he doesn’t catch the words, he knows everything is fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god okay guys thank you so much for trudging through that sappy mess with me, it needed to be done!!  
> thank you so much for reading!! it really means a lot! please tell me what you think, or stop by on tumblr (@hijackedhoneybeeez) and come talk to me or give me ideas and such!  
> i love you all so much and, kind of the theme of this whole story, it is COMPLETELY OKAY to ask for help. don't be scared to, or ashamed, and know that there are plenty of people who care for you just the way you are!  
> -HB

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! please tell me what you think!!  
> youre stronger than you know, so keep moving forward!  
> love ya!  
> -HB


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